The Sin That Hides in Plain Sight: Covetousness, Stinginess, and the Christian Heart

The Sin That Hides in Plain Sight: Covetousness, Stinginess, and the Christian Heart

In his timeless work, The Plain Man’s Pathway to Heaven, Arthur Dent pulls no punches when he lays bare the sins that cling to the human soul. Among them, covetousness stands out—not as some distant vice reserved for the greedy merchant or the envious neighbor, but as a subtle thief that sneaks into every heart, even the Christian’s. Dent describes it as an insatiable longing, a restless desire for more than what God has graciously provided. But what struck me as I pondered his words is how this sin doesn’t always look like grabbing for gold. Sometimes, it hides in the tight grip of a closed hand—stinginess—and that’s where the Christian must take heed.

Dent paints covetousness as a breach of the Tenth Commandment: “Thou shalt not covet.” It’s not just wanting what your neighbor has—his house, his ox, his blessings—but wanting more than what God has deemed sufficient for you. It’s a heart that says, “What I have isn’t enough,” even when the Lord has promised to supply all our needs. Covetousness, in Dent’s view, is distrust in God’s providence dressed up as ambition or prudence. And here’s where stinginess creeps in, hand in hand with its twin, revealing the same root of unbelief.

Picture a man who hoards his coins, not because he’s rich, but because he’s afraid. He doesn’t give to the poor, he doesn’t share with the church, he doesn’t open his home to the weary. Why? Because deep down, he covets security, control, and a buffer against tomorrow’s uncertainties. He’s not chasing after his neighbor’s goods outright—he’s too “righteous” for that—but he’s clutching what’s his with a grip so tight it betrays the same restless heart Dent warns against. Stinginess isn’t the absence of generosity; it’s the overflow of covetousness turned inward.

Dent would likely say this man’s sin isn’t just in what he doesn’t do—though neglecting the needy is sin enough—but in what he believes. To withhold is to doubt God’s promise: “Give, and it shall be given unto you” (Luke 6:38). It’s to covet not another’s treasure, but your own, as if God won’t replenish what you release. The stingy Christian might not lust after a bigger house or a finer coat, but he covets the peace of knowing he’s got enough tucked away. And therein lies the rub: it’s still idolatry, still a refusal to let God be God.

Let’s bring this home. I’ve seen it in myself—maybe you have too. That moment when the offering plate passes, and I hesitate, calculating what I might lose instead of trusting what God might do. Or when a friend asks for help, and I weigh my time and resources like they’re mine to hoard, not His to steward. Dent calls this “the deceitfulness of riches,” even if those riches are just a few dollars or a spare hour. Stinginess whispers, “Hold on tight,” while covetousness nods approvingly, both agreeing that God’s provision might not be enough.

But the Christian heart, Dent reminds us, is called to higher ground. We’re to be rich in faith, not in fear; generous in love, not grudging in giving. The antidote to covetousness—and its stingy shadow—is contentment. “Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content,” Paul writes (1 Timothy 6:8), echoing the plain truth Dent hammers home. When we trust that God gives us enough for today and tomorrow, we can loosen our grip. We stop coveting our own security and start sharing what we’ve been given.

So, let’s examine ourselves, as Dent urges. Where are we stingy—not just with money, but with time, kindness, or forgiveness? Where are we coveting control instead of resting in Christ? The two sins are twins, born of the same distrust, and they’ll choke the life out of a Christian soul if left unchecked. But praise God, there’s grace to uproot them. Let’s pray for eyes to see His abundance, hands to give it freely, and hearts that say, “Lord, all I have is Yours.”